


Get Me Another SnorkJuice

by mouseratstan



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bathroom Sex, Drunk Sex, Episode Related, F/M, Pining, secrecy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:42:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23258599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mouseratstan/pseuds/mouseratstan
Summary: In which Ben Wyatt does, in fact, get Leslie Knope another "SnorkJuice" and decides to dance up on her.Humor turns to smut turns to angst.Takes place during 3x13 "The Fight"
Relationships: Leslie Knope/Ben Wyatt
Comments: 3
Kudos: 94





	1. Ben's Experience

Why, god, why did Ben agree to come to the Snakehole tonight?

Sure, he did it for Tom. Tom, who really was his friend, and despite his flaws and overall concerning lack of empathy, really did make Ben’s life feel a little bit better. Since Ben helped him with Tommy Fresh and Dennis Feinstein, and Tom helped Ben with that “Treat Yo’ Self” Day, Ben couldn't help but feel like he owed Tom. Hence, coming to the Snakehole tonight to try and sell his new drink, appropriately named SnakeJuice.

And maybe Ben had other motivations for being here too. Namely Leslie, who he saw way too quickly, pushing through the crowd shouting buzzwords like “high end” and “exclusive” that Tom begged them to use. She always pulled through for her friends.

It was easy to keep track of her throughout the night. Her hair was bright and her energy infected the entire club, and people were getting drunk very, very fast. So was she, for that mattered, and Ben resolved to watch her even closer, if only to make sure she stayed safe. He didn't know what he would do with himself if Leslie got hurt and he didn't help, if he didn't look out for her. He couldn't help but think it would be somehow his fault.

Ben didn't drink very much. Little sips of SnakeJuice, at the insistence (begging) of Tom and Jean-Ralphio, who wouldn't stop rapping in his face until he took his first sip. Ben hated to admit it actually didn't taste bad at all. It was very sugary, an absolute rush to his head, and he felt like he might die if he had more than four shots of the drink, but still. He definitely couldn't say it tasted bad.

Ben leaned forward, interrupting Tom in the middle of a heated discussion with Jean-Ralphio about ending his raps on the rhyme. “Hey, Tom? How much of this is even safe to drink? Like, are we okay, or are we getting slowly poisoned?”

Tom threw his arms in the air, his smile widening. “Who knows! That's the beauty of SnakeJuice, Benji boy. People drink as much as they want, and if they die, I still make money! Your girl Leslie over there has already had, like, seven shots.”

Ben was so flustered by this that his brain didn't even register the number of shots Leslie had. “She's not… she isn't… my girl…”

Tom clapped a hand on his shoulder, causing him to almost violently flinch. “Oh my god, Ben, you pathetic nerd. I'm done with you!” And true to his word, Tom stalked off into the crowd- specifically, a crowd of girls very drunk off of SnakeJuice. 

He cradled his glass of SnakeJuice and sighed, lifting the drink to his mouth. He was pathetic, wasn't he? He was scared and anxious and god, he shouldn't have shown up and he didn't even know how to talk to her anymore with blushing and smiling like a dopey idiot. She looked so beautiful tonight, and her hair, so bright and so shiny and he felt the insane urge to reach out and touch it, to see how her curls would feel on the pads of his fingers, to touch her face and brush the tears from her eyes.

Wait, tears? She wasn't crying, was she? Ben focused his eyes in on Leslie again and discovered that, no, she wasn't crying, but she looked damn close to it. He’d been so preoccupied thinking about her hair and her skin and her eyes that he hadn't even noticed the yelling, but it was all he could hear now. It pierced his ears, Leslie and Ann, but none of their words made sense. Ann was storming away from Leslie, and the next thing Ben knew he was standing in front of her with a full glass of SnakeJuice. He didn't remember his feet carrying him to Leslie, they’d had a mind of their own.

“Hey, are you okay? I heard yelling,” Ben said, and he was almost terrified by the look she gave him, the anger in her eyes. He wanted to hold her.

“Yeah I'm very angry and very drunk, do you wanna dance with me? Go get me another SnorkJuice.”

SnorkJuice? Did he hear that right? It didn't matter, because he cared more about what she said right before that. Dance with me. Oh god, he wanted to. He was far too tempted. Her eyes still held his and it was so intense that his breath caught in his throat and he almost choked. “I'm not so sure that's a good idea for you,” Ben muttered, and god, why did he say that? She instantly recoiled and he was tipsy enough that he could've cried.

“Forget it,” she spat at him. “Jean-Ralphio!” The man popped up instantly, as if entirely out of thin air, at Leslie’s beck and call. He was already too close to her, and Ben felt his chest tighten. “Dance up on me.”

Jean-Ralphio was practically moaning the word yes, yes, yes, and Ben saw a million things in his head at once. He pictured Jean-Ralphio rubbing up on Leslie, grinding on her in the middle of the dance floor. He imagined Leslie’s lips on his while Ben had to watch from a corner, drinking sadly. He imagined Leslie and Jean-Ralphio having sex in the Snakehole bathroom and- oh god, no, even that thought was too cursed. As if Jean-Ralphio had that much game.

Still. Ben said fuck it.

“Wait!” he called, and he didn't even give Leslie a minute to turn around, just reached over and pulled her from Jean-Ralphio, pressing his glass of SnakeJuice into her hands. “Leslie,” he said, and it was low, and he sounded more confident than he really felt. “I'll dance up on you.”

The smile on her face was all the encouragement he needed, but liquid courage would certainly help him out too. He grabbed a glass from a nearby platter and downed the entire drink in one go, Leslie not far behind him. Ben shot up, the alcohol hitting him like a brick, and he pumped his fist in the air. 

Ben and Leslie danced, and at first they didn't touch. Ben had a few more shots, Leslie had several more, and they didn't care what they looked like or who was watching, and all Ben cared about was the beautiful woman in front of him, her hair getting messier, swaying her hips and god, he wanted to touch them. It didn't help that she kept getting closer to him and he could practically feel her, how warm she was, so many goosebumps on his skin.

She was inches away from him and she looked at him underneath her eyelashes. Ben had to stop himself from groaning, from kissing her in front of the entire club, and he knew she could sense his frustration. “Ben,” she said, low and sexy, and he lowered his head so she was closer to his ear. “Hold me, Ben.”

Those words broke him, any resolve of his completely crumbling. His hands tore from his pockets and gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her, and she was so soft and so perfect. Leslie just kept moving closer to him, and Ben felt her fingers on his arms, sliding up to his shoulders, and his entire body was straining to keep himself in control. He was just drunk enough that this could go so, so terribly. This was dangerous.

“Ben,” Leslie said, and he loved the way his name sounded on her tongue. “Ben, Ann yelled at me. She said… she said that I was taking things too slow with you. So I had this crazy thought, Ben.”

This was so dangerous, this was bad. Ben knew, on some level, that he and Leslie liked each other, but they’d never discussed it before. It had never been completely brought up. It was too risky, they could both lose their jobs and Chris would hate him, and… her breath was hot next to his ear and Ben wanted nothing more than to bring Leslie home right then and there.

“What's your crazy thought?” Ben asked her, using his grip on her hips to pull him closer against his body.

“We should move faster, Ben. Faster. Faster, Ben! Faster. Don't you think?”

Ben squeezed his eyes shut. “Leslie, if you keep saying that word…”

She looked up at him with a look of false innocence. “What word? Faster? You don't want me to say faster, Ben? Why not? If this doesn't work I'll just have to try harder-”

“Oh god, no, that word is even worse.”

“Shhhh, Ben, shhhh,” she whispered, and pressed a finger to his lips. Every second she did this to him he was falling apart faster, and she had to know what she was doing. It was deliberate, and Ben was falling right into her trap. He liked this trap, though. He liked it so, so much, and he wanted more. “Ben, listen to me. I have a plan, okay?”

“Anything,” he rasped, nearly desperate now.

“Ben. We're going to get another shot of SnakeJuice. We're going to drink it at the same time, you follow me? And then we’re going to head into the whiz palace. Okay, Ben?”

Ben’s brain was muddled from all the alcohol and the smell of her perfume and the feel of her hips. “The bathroom?” he questioned, furrowing his brows. “Do you need to go?”

Leslie only gave him a look. Squeezed his arm. Pressed closer to him. It hit him a second later. “OH! Oh, yeah! Yeah, I like that plan, that's a really good plan.”

The shots of SnakeJuice were down in seconds, Leslie sneaking another one while Ben was finishing his first, just for good measure. It's Leslie that grabbed Ben, pushing him into the nearest bathroom, squeezing into the closest stall they could. There was no more patience, no more wasting time. Ben was seeing white, stars in his brain, and the instant Leslie managed to get the stall door to lock shut, he was on her, grabbing her face in his hands and pressing his lips to hers like he’d been wanting to for months.

Kissing Leslie was everything Ben imagined it would be and more. They were both so drunk, Leslie even drunker than Ben was, but for the most part that only served to make them both more confident, more eager to jump on each other, and now after months of nothing they were moving so, so fast.

Ben and Leslie made out furiously, and the way she pushed back into him to bite at his lip, the way she gripped the front of his shirt in her fist, made Ben completely lose it, and he was absolutely sick of waiting any longer to do what he knew they both wanted. With a kind of strength Ben didn't even know he had in him, he grabbed Leslie’s shoulders and pushed her back against the wall of the stall, effectively pinning her as she ran her hands up and down his chest.

He tilted his head down to kiss her neck, and as he sucked on the skin, she gasped, a sound that was so satisfying to him that he knew he had to hear it again as soon as he could. A stray hand of hers reached much lower than his chest, and with a groan that he couldn't keep inside, she cupped the front of his pants to rub his quickly growing erection. 

Not to be outdone, he slipped his hand underneath her blouse to grab a handful of her breast, waiting only a moment for her happy gasp, which he took as permission to move faster, grip her harder. Leslie was already eagerly fumbling with Ben’s pants, ripping away his belt and tossing it to the bathroom floor. Their breathing was heavy, and Leslie captured his mouth with hers once more as she slipped her hand into his underwear and grabbed his dick without a hint of warning.

Ben moaned into her mouth, expressing his appreciation of this move by practically ripping open her own pants, copying her by shoving his palm down and rubbing her furiously. 

“Ben, Ben,” Leslie moans, breaking away from their kiss to throw her head back against the wall. “Oh my god, Ben.”

“Keep saying my name,” he instructed her, quickly inserting two fingers inside of her. “I like when you say it.”

“Ben,” she gasped, just a little bit louder, and a tiny part of Ben’s brain remembered that they were in a bathroom stall at the Snakehole Lounge, where almost anyone could come in and catch them, at least hear them, but the bigger, drunker, hornier part of Ben’s brain decided he didn't care. He just wanted Leslie to scream his name. “Ben, please,” she cried, as Ben’s fingers continued to pound in and out of her. “I swear to god, Ben, if you don't fuck me right now-”

It was her use of the word ‘fuck’ that truly got to Ben, that made him decide that even though they were moving incredibly quickly, it just wasn't quick enough. The two of them were on exactly the same wavelength, far too eager to get to it that there wasn't even time to pull off their clothes. The most Ben could manage to do was slide Leslie’s pants down to the floor and drag one ankle out completely. She was short, even next to Ben, but that wasn't a problem. Ben was so into what he was doing that he merely hoisted her up against the stall wall and pinned her, where she wrapped both her legs around his waist for support.

The gaps in Ben’s memories started here, but he was the lucky one, in that sense. The next thing he knew he was inside her, rocking and pounding into her with reckless abandon, as if he’d forgotten that they were still in a public place. Her breathing was labored, her fingers curling into Ben's hair and tugging like the strands were her lifeline, which just served to make Ben all the more turned on. 

He couldn't tell anyone how long it might have lasted, only that in his memory, it went on forever. Every moment he remembered he was so fully in the moment, leaning his head forward to rest on her shoulder, burying his face in her bright hair, reducing Leslie to a point where the only thing she could say was his name, loud at first, and then softer, more intimate, into the skin of his neck. 

Ben also couldn't tell anyone at which point it stopped. There was a giant gap where there was supposed to be the end, the last thing he could remember being Leslie’s tiny gasp as she came, the shaking of her body pressed against him, her fingers tightening in his hair and the clenching of her thighs around his waist. He remembered thinking she was beautiful, and how he wished there was more time, and that they weren't in the bathroom at a sleazy club, incredibly drunk off alcohol that might as well have been poison. Ben remembered his fingers brushing through Leslie’s hair, how her eyes could barely remain open, how she kissed him one last time, gentle and breathless, barely brushing against his lips. That kiss was the last thing he remembered.

Somehow, Leslie had gotten her pants back on. Somehow, Ben had gotten his buckled again, he even managed to keep his belt secured. At some point, Leslie had passed out, Ben assumed back out in the club, and Ben hadn't even made it out of the bathroom before he was throwing up. Both of them had gotten back to their respective homes and into their beds, separated from each other, by a savior of a friend he couldn't quite place.

He woke up the next morning wondering if he was dead. He was in so much pain that he had to be, right? Ben was absolutely dead, or in the process of dying slowly. The first thought he had when he was finally coherent enough to have a thought was that he was certain he may never drink alcohol ever again, and especially not SnakeJuice. 

The second thought was that he had sex with Leslie Knope.

The third thought was that he had to throw up immediately, but that wasn't nearly as jarring or impactful as the idea of him, Ben Wyatt, having sex with Leslie Knope, something he had wanted to do for so long, and their first time they were drunk off their asses.

When he managed to drag himself into the shower to start his day (during which he threw up again), he couldn't help but want to beat himself up. Even worse, he started to cry. The idea that he had been with Leslie and she had wanted him and he got to kiss her… and he only remembered bits and pieces of it, it nearly broke him that morning, and he almost hated himself for it. Not at the idea of possibly being fired, no, because Ben was certain that Leslie was worth that risk, but the fact that something so special was almost completely lost because of him and alcohol killed him.

He was terrified to see Leslie that day. What if she regretted everything? What if she didn't want to see him at all? If she hated him now? He didn't think he could blame her if she did, he was already well on his way.

She looked like a mess when he saw her. Ben knocked on her office door and she jumped up, hair all over the place and mascara smeared under her eyes. “Leslie?” he whispered, tentatively. Her eyes took a moment to really find him. “Are you okay?”

“Nope,” she mumbled, looking around for her water. “I think I'm dead. I think I died last night. I've never been this hungover.”

“I feel great. I ran a 5k this morning.”

“Really?”

“No, I threw up in the shower.” The way she smiled at him gave Ben a small boost of confidence, trying to figure out how to breach the topic. “Um, you got home safe?”

She ran her hands over her face. “I mean, I must have. The last thing I remember is fighting with Ann and then I woke up on my couch. Must have slept wrong, I've never felt more sore in my life.”

Ben froze, his body going temporarily numb. It took a long time for her words to catch up to him and for him to say anything at all. “Wait. You don't remember anything?”

Leslie looked embarrassed by this fact, groaning into a pillow she kept on her desk. “God, no, I completely blacked out. It's really all just lots of flashes of yelling at Ann.” She stared at him for a moment, and then gasped. “Oh crap, why do you ask? I said something embarrassing, didn't I? I'm really sorry, Ben, I probably shouldn't have said whatever it was I said.”

His heart dropped to his stomach. “You didn't say anything embarrassing.”

“I didn't? I didn't do anything stupid?”

Ben could hardly breathe, it was torture to be here. “I— No. No, nothing stupid.”

She looked relieved, not even noticing how badly he was falling apart. This outcome was worse than any one he could've imagined that morning: one where Leslie didn't remember what happened between them at all. Leslie didn't know she kissed him, didn't know about their time in the bathroom stall, didn't know how she whispered his name against his skin as she came undone for him. None of it mattered, because none of it existed to Leslie.

“If you'll excuse me, I really have to throw up again,” Ben said, and he didn't even look at Leslie as he ran out the door and out of City Hall. He threw up in the bushes right outside, heaving in the cold light of day, trying to catch his breath. Everything was falling apart and if he thought it was awful that he couldn't remember bits and pieces, it was hell that Leslie couldn't even remember the first time she kissed him.

This was no epic first kiss story. It was not cute and inspiring and the beginning of something amazing. Ben couldn't tell her. There was absolutely no way, no way he could bring that up to her in any normal way. “Oh, yeah, by the way, when we both got totally wasted last night you may have dragged me into a bathroom and had sex with me, your boss, when it's totally not allowed and could get you fired and you don't remember any of it but you screamed my name and it was great. Bye!” 

Yeah, that definitely wasn't an option.

And now he had to walk back into her office and hire a new Health Director with her. He was expected to look into her eyes and know what it's like to kiss her and remember what it was like to touch her and wrap himself around her but all she knew was that Ben was her boss and nothing was allowed to happen. And Ben was supposed to be okay with that.

Whatever thought that Ben had that morning about no longer drinking alcohol was gone. In fact, he was going to drink himself out every night until he figured out a solution to this problem.

Actually, that sounded like a good idea to do just then. Running away from his problems sounded so much more fun than staring into Leslie's eyes and pretending he wasn't falling in love with her. And his house was so close…

Ben didn't even text Leslie or Chris that he would be leaving that day. He just went home and collapsed on the floor next to his bed, ready to sleep for hours. So much easier.


	2. Leslie's Experience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leslie attempts to jog her memory from the night before, suspicious over how Ben is acting around her.

Leslie woke up the day after her fight with Ann feeling like something was very, very wrong. And not just when it came to the fight, either, but something even bigger than that.

She’d slept on her couch, not even remembering how she got there or at what point she left the Snakehole Lounge, feeling totally and ridiculously in pain. Her head was pounding from the hangover, but she also felt oddly sore, in her legs and her hips, her back feeling like it needed a good massage. How badly could she have slept to be this sore? What the hell did she do last night?

She really didn’t like not knowing something, especially about herself. 

But still, she got up, took a shower, and went to work, feeling more like hell than she had in a long time. She barely got any work done and dreaded having to go hire the new Health Director, thinking only of Ann and their fight last night, where her biggest flashes of memory came from. Lots of yelling, she knew. Lots of angry dancing and angry drinking.

Ben came to see her in her office, made a joke about running 5k this morning. He was acting weird, she was awake enough to understand that much. He looked at her a little differently. “Um, you got home safe?” he asked her, scratching the back of his neck.

“I mean, I must have. The last thing I remember is fighting with Ann and then I woke up on my couch. Must have slept wrong, I've never felt more sore in my life.”

Ben took too long to answer her. “Wait. You don't remember anything?”

She hated admitting this to Ben, who looked so stupidly cute even when he was hungover and dead and exhausted and acting weird. God, what if he thought she was some kind of crazy alcoholic? All of this felt very high school. “God, no, I completely blacked out,” she groaned, hating every word she said. “It's really all just lots of flashes of yelling at Ann.” Ben just kept looking at her, and it was then that something hit Leslie like a flash. Oh god, oh no, who even knew what the hell kind of thing she might have said to Ben while drunk off SnakeJuice? What if he was acting weird because she called his mouth adorable or his butt cute? “Oh crap, why do you ask? I said something embarrassing, didn't I? I'm really sorry, Ben, I probably shouldn't have said whatever it was I said.”

“You didn't say anything embarrassing.”

“I didn't? I didn't do anything stupid?”

Ben wouldn't look Leslie in the eye, which didn't help his case. Something had to be up. “I— No. No, nothing stupid.”

By the time he left to go throw up, Leslie’s mind wouldn't stop spinning. Something was definitely wrong, and she couldn't help but think Ben was upset with her for something. Especially when he didn't show up again, completely bailing on her when they were supposed to hire someone together.

Leslie did it herself, even sadder than she was before, glancing at the seat Ben was supposed to be taking up, in this together. There was something seriously wrong. And even though they had fought the night before, Leslie’s spiraling made her happier than ever to see Ann walk through the doors, even if her shirt was inside out… and backwards.

Leslie immediately stood up and dragged Ann into a hug, which she returned with all smiles. “Oh my god, Ann, you're so beautiful and I missed you and I am SO sorry.”

“Ugh, I'm sorry, too,” Ann sighed, pulling back from the hug to take a seat across from Leslie. “All of that last night… it was ridiculous. Way too much happened.”

“Speaking of, I have a serious Code Ben.”

Ann raised a brow, a tiny smirk starting up on her lips. “I was wondering if you would say that, I saw you two dancing last night!” Ann was laughing at this, reaching over to playfully hit Leslie’s arm, but Leslie just spiraled further with this new piece of information.

“I danced with Ben last night?!” she all but screamed, her eyes going wide. She felt ready to tear her hair out. If she danced with Ben at any point then she definitely did or said something weird. “Ann… beautiful, sweet Ann, I have a very important question for you and I need you to answer me with complete honesty.”

Ann looked taken back, her smile slowly fading. “Of course, always, what’s wrong?”

Leslie gripped Ann’s arm like it was her lifeline to this universe. Ann couldn't move if she tried. “Do you remember the day Ben and Chris showed up in City Hall and later that night we got drunk and you made out with Chris?”

“Oh my god, do we have to talk about Chris right now? It was bad enough I had to see him last night—”

“This isn't about Chris, Ann, listen to me! You told me the next morning you just had a feeling that you made out with someone. What is that feeling? How did you know?”

Leslie was terrified, and once again Ann could only laugh, doing that thing where her eyes slowly went wide and she erupted into a knowing grin. “What? Oh my god, Leslie!” her voice dropped to an excited whisper. “Did you and Ben make out last night?”

Leslie huffed, ready to snap. “I don't know, Ann, answer the question!”

“Well, I don't know! It's just a feeling. I woke up and I just had a FEELING. There wasn't anything physical I could tell you about.”

Leslie was very sore, and that was weird and very physical. She had no idea if that had anything to do with it, none of this was helping her. But she did have a feeling something must have happened.

“Ben was acting weird earlier, Ann.”

She raised a brow. “Weird how?”

“Okay, well, we were both supposed to be here to hire the new PR Director. He came into my office and he kept… looking at me weird and stumbling over all his words and he was super surprised I didn't remember anything last night. And then he left to go throw up and never came back.” Without a text or warning or anything, Leslie noted silently. That part definitely stung.

Ann's covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh my god, Leslie, I think… something might have happened with you and Ben last night.”

“Something more than dancing?!”

Ann nodded. “I'm certain it's something more than dancing. You need to go talk to him.”

“But Ann, I'm scared!”

“Go, Leslie! Get out of here, you need to have a serious talk with Ben and get to the bottom of this. And then text me the minute you find out because I am VERY interested in this now.”

A couple hours later, Leslie was banging on the door to Andy and April’s house, where Ben had moved in, knowing he would likely be the only one home. She kept banging on the door, for several minutes actually, before Ben opened up.

He looked like a mess. Even more so than he did that morning. His hair was still all over the place, his eyes squinting as if he just woke up, in sweats and a Letters to Cleo shirt. It took him a second to even recognize it was Leslie at his door, but he was wide awake once that fact settled in.

“Leslie?” he blinked, hovering around the doorway. “What are you doing here? Is this because I—”

“Because you completely ditched me to hire a PR Director on my own?” she raised a brow. “No. That should be why I'm here, but no it's not. I'm coming in.”

Leslie pushed her way past him, leaving Ben blinking and confused, closing the door behind him. “Then, um… uh… why— why are you here?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I know you too well at this point, Wyatt. That's your nervous stuttering. I feel like you're hiding something.”

Ben’s knee jerk reaction instantly gave him away, physically jumping and shoving his hands in his hoodie pocket. “What— that's ridiculous, I… what would I possibly have to hide? Nothing happened, nothing ever happened. Everything’s cool, it's great, you're great—”

“Ben,” she insisted, and when she stepped closer to him, he looked like he wanted to shrink from existence entirely. Leslie softened her voice. She knew she would have to be the steady, rational one in this conversation if it was going to go anywhere at all. “Ben, I'm not upset with you, and I'm not here to attack you. I just… I can't help but feel like you weren't entirely truthful this morning when you said I didn't do anything… weird.”

Ben avoided looking her in the eye again, his hands shaking in his pockets. “Why would you think that? Do you… do you remember something? From last night?”

Though Leslie didn't show it, with every new sentence Ben spoke, her heart dropped further into her stomach. She grew more and more convinced she had to have done something to Ben, something he didn't like, and that was why he was acting this way. What if she completely came on to him? And he rejected her and she didn't remember a thing?

Leslie looked down at her hands. “I don't remember anything, no. But I just… have a feeling. And the way you're acting and have been acting today, well, it's just confirming my suspicion.”

Ben sucked in a breath. “Which is…?”

Now Leslie was the one to start to freak out, wanting to put her head in her hands or run out the door and forget everything. “I think I did do something last night. Maybe I said something to you. Came on to you. I don't know, but it's obvious now whatever I did wasn't okay, and I'm sorry for that.”

Ben stared at her, the first time he did all day. “Wait, wait… you think what's happening is that I rejected you?”

She pursed her lips. “Is that not what happened?”

“Oh my god, Leslie, no,” he insisted, taking a step closer to her, before lifting a hand to his brow and inhaling deeply. “Nothing like that happened. Look, it's better if we just forget about it, okay? Nothing…. nothing really happened, it's not a big deal.”

“Ben, if something happened, you should really tell me—”

“Nothing happened!”

“If we made out while we were drunk that's something I want to know about!”

Ben winced. “It was uh… probably a tiny bit more than making out.”

Leslie started to pace around the living room, digging through her brain for any sign of a memory, any tiny tidbit she could come up with, but it was all coming up blank. More than making out? How much more could they possibly have done? “You touched my boob, didn't you? Honestly, Ben, I can't blame you for that one, I know you looked at Jerry’s painting—”

“Leslie, we had sex last night.”

There was silence. Leslie immediately stopped her pacing, freezing completely, running over what Ben said again and again in her brain. That definitely wasn't the answer she was expecting. She looked at Ben, pointed a finger at him. “Had sex, like… like with your penis? In me?”

Ben rubbed the side of his face, turning red. “That is how sex works, yes, Leslie.”

“Oh my god,” she said, feeling as if this answer was somehow worse than anything she could've come up with. “How could I not remember that?”

“To be fair, we were both pretty drunk. It's a miracle I remember any of it at all.”

Leslie surveyed Ben, looked him up and down. It upset her, it really did. She’d been thinking of Ben for weeks now and wondering what it might be like to kiss him, to have sex with him and have him in her bed, and they both end up going for it completely drunk in the Snakehole Lounge bathroom and Leslie didn't remember any of it. She collapsed to the couch, putting her head in her hands.

Ben took a loud, shaky breath. “I am… so, so sorry, Leslie. I didn't mean to… I hate that I… that I hurt you. I wasn't thinking clearly last night and I just… wanted you.”

She couldn't help but start to smile a little. “Ben, don't blame yourself, I'm not mad at you. I don't believe for a second that it was one sided, I know how I’ve felt, for quite a while now.”

“You mean… you really wanted to? You don't regret it?”

She shrugged. “Even if I don't remember it, and that sucks, I don't regret it. I mean, come on, Ben, you mean to tell me I wasn't into it at all? I find that hard to believe. I bet I initiated it.”

Ben started to smile too, inching closer to where she sat on the couch. “I… okay, yeah, you did. And… you did seem very into it.”

They were sitting next to each other now, nearly touching, and Leslie couldn't help but try and remember even harder what it was like to have sex with Ben. She supposed with the way her legs and hips were still sore the next day, he had to have done a good enough job. But she never doubted for a second that Ben would be excellent at bedding her.

“You know,” she said, “I do think it's kind of unfair you get to remember it and I don't.”

Ben smiled at her, and they both made eye contact. “I think that's kind of unfair, too. I was really looking forward to you remembering screaming my name in the Snakehole bathroom.”

Leslie’s legs clenched, her heart beating double the speed. “Ben, I swear to god, if you say something like that again I will insist you physically jog my memory.”

She felt his leg pressing up against hers. He kept going, ignoring what she had said, a tiny smirk on his face that Leslie couldn't help but think was very attractive and very sexy. “It was also pretty unfair that I was drunk. I had to have been off my game. I mean, if I did that well drunk off my ass, I wonder what it's like sober?”

“You teasing jerk,” Leslie hissed, before taking Ben’s face in hers and finally, finally pressing a kiss to his cute mouth. It wasn't the first time, that she knew, but she decided that was okay. Ben enthusiastically kissed her back, pulling her closer to him so she was straddling his lap, his arms wrapping firmly around her waist. “There's only one way we can fix this drunken sex memory problem of ours, Wyatt.”

He raised a brow, one of his hands rubbing up and down her thigh. “What's that?”

“Recreating it,” she whispered, and his hands locked on her hips. “I better be screaming your name soon, buddy, or I'm going to insist upon a more accurate recreation.”

Ben laughed, and the sound was music to her ears, the only thing she wanted to hear. “I'll do my best.”

He kissed her again, and Leslie felt content. SnakeJuice was horrible, and awful, filled with plenty of regret and shame, that much everyone knew. And though she would never, ever admit this to Tom for the sake of not inflating his ego, Leslie supposed she had SnakeJuice to thank. She and Ben may have gotten much too drunk and made way too dangerous a mistake, and Leslie may have forgotten everything by morning, but all of that would only lead up to this. Kissing Ben, being with Ben, having Ben.

Leslie decided she didn't care about the danger. Ben was worth it all.

But also, fuck SnakeJuice. She was definitely never touching that stuff ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally supposed to be a one shot but then it got really long, and for the sake of not leaving off on a really sour note I will be writing one more chapter from Leslie's perspective!


End file.
